Entry tags:

fanfiction: femmeslash, harry potter: pansy/hermione

Pansy the Victorious (Pansy/Hermione)
Title: Pansy the Victorious
Author: Lucia de’Medici
Summary: Stealth Week in Slytherin is a competition that pits the house members against one another. It is a test of wills and wiles, and only the most cunning can win.
Pairing: Hermione/Pansy
Rating: R
Warnings: femmeslash
Author's Notes: Many thanks are extended to my beta, Lisa725, for helping me revise this fic in February 2006.

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Pansy the Victorious
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“Granger, you chit, shut up!”

“Look, Parkinson, I don’t know what it is that –”

The lithe blonde with the upturned nose dove for the Gryffindor, knocking her backwards and tacking her to the alcove wall with one carefully manicured hand clamped over her mouth.

“You’re supposed to be the cleverest witch of our age,” she hissed. “Act like it!”

The brunette mumbled something around her makeshift gag, to which Pansy rolled her eyes and leaned over enough to glance around the corner.

“It’s ‘Stealth Week’ in Slytherin,” she murmured, as if this were enough explanation. To be sure Granger wouldn’t try to slink off, she pressed the girl against the wall with her hips and cast a glance over her shoulder to verify the boys had passed. “Every year, as per tradition, select Slytherin students are assigned a task.”

The Head Girl took the opportunity to jab Pansy in the ribs.

“Shit!” she returned, rubbing her side and returning her baleful glare to the brown-eyed witch before her. “Look, I’ll remove my hand as long as you promise to cooperate.” As an afterthought, Pansy pursed her lips and added, “Lick once if you agree.”

Granger’s breath came out in a huff, ghosting Pansy’s knuckles where they rested below her nose. The Slytherin smiled ruefully as Granger’s warm tongue lapped at her palm, though the gesture could not be passed without an exaggerated roll of the eyes.

Obligingly, Pansy removed her fingers slowly, and placed her wet palm against the masonry nearest Granger’s hip to keep her from bolting.

The Gryffindor glared and folded her arms, her lips pinched into an irritated scowl. The absence of torchlight in the small nook that led off from the Potions corridor bathed everything in tricky flickers from the main passageway. Because of the dim lighting, Pansy could almost revel in her miniature victory without letting on too much.

“Hazing has been prohibited since 1732, as have been secret societies, unorthodox duelling clubs, and underground gambling –”

“Yes, yes, Granger. We’re well aware of that,” Pansy said absently while placing her other hand against the wall nearest the nook’s exit and feigning a look into the dungeon gloom beyond. “However, there’s a loophole in the Hogwarts rule book regarding social obligation that overrides sections three hundred sixty-four, ninety-one, and fourteen and a half. As such –”

“You’ve read the rule book?” Granger asked incredulously — and just a notch too loud for Pansy’s comfort, so she shushed her again.

“You need to know what the rules are exactly in order to break them,” Pansy hissed. “I’m saving your arse here; you’re prime target for half the Slytherin males.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh please, Granger,” Pansy rolled her eyes, though the expression was lost in the gloom. “You’re fresh pickings; everyone in this school knows you’d make a fantastic virgin sacrifice if it ever came to that.”

“What?” the Gryffindor shrieked, earning a baleful huff and Pansy’s hand clamping down over her lips once again.

“We do not want you for any rituals – well, at least nothing that would cost you your life,” Pansy smirked. “Shh, don’t struggle. I think someone’s coming,” she breathed, pressing into the girl and covering her as much as possible with her body.

Sure enough, the faint drawl of one particularly obnoxious blond could be heard in the distance.

“I suppose we’d best split up, Zabini,” Draco was jeering. “I’ll take the library.”

“You’d fancy that, would you, Malfoy?” the Italian replied smoothly. “I think you’d better set your standards a little lower. That blond Hufflefluff ditz with the pigtails must be looking rather appealing at this point.”

“Tosh, Zabini – you’ve just discovered uncompromising standards exist.”

“Blasphemer!”

“Despoiler of the blood lines!”

“Muggle-lover!”

A gasp, and then, “Take it back!”

“Fat chance,” Zabini chortled. “That is, unless you pass this rare occasion up, allowing yourself to be bested by none other than –”

“Oh, shut up!”

The brusque click of their heels could be heard trailing in the distance as the pair of boys continued squabbling into the upper echelons of the school corridors.

It was a moment before Pansy realized that Granger was regarding her speculatively.

“What?” she snapped.

“What’s going on?” Granger murmured cautiously after snatching at Pansy’s wrist and freeing her mouth. Good, Pansy thought, serves her right to be worried.

“As I said, it’s an annual Slytherin tradition,” she replied primly.

Granger sucked in a breath and tried to fuss with her robes, a task that couldn’t entirely be accomplished due to Pansy’s closeness.

“And what do your sordid ‘annual traditions’ entitle, exactly? Blood sacrifice? Ritual flagellation?”

Pansy quirked an eyebrow. “No, but that’s not entirely a bad idea.”

Granger huffed and tried to squirm out from the makeshift prison of Pansy’s limbs.

“Why does it seem as if I do not want to know anymore about this than that?”

“Well,” Pansy replied absently, still leaning against the wall with one hand while inspecting her nails with the other. “Considering that you’ve been made prime target by every overly hormonal monstrosity in my house this year –”

“For what, exactly?” Granger stopped her struggling to appraise her warily.

There was a distinct tinge of worry in her tone now, and Pansy did her best to smile demurely.

“We pride ourselves on our cunning, Granger. It’s a trait that is usually tested when you become of age in Slytherin house – but it usually happens that this event starts much earlier. One of the ultimate tests of our prowess usually falls to Stealth Week; each member is assigned a task to be performed within seven days – should they fail, they suffer the house’s displeasure –”

“Well that doesn’t sound so terrible,” Granger huffed and shifted her weight to her other foot.

“Merlin!” Pansy nearly tutted, but she retrained her disdain to a mere eye-roll. “If you’ve ever been strung to a fishing pole by your knickers and dipped into the lake at four o’clock in the morning to be fed to the giant squid as a late-night snack, you’d understand the severity of the situation.”

“They wouldn’t –”

“They have,” Pansy affirmed with a bored air. “And they will.”

“But –” she protested.

“So,” Pansy continued, appraising her evenly in the dim lighting. “Consider what I’m about to do the biggest favour of your paltry, pristine existence.”

“Wha –” Granger began, but her protests were quickly staunched as Pansy’s mouth smothered hers.

Pansy could feel the brush of the Gryffindor’s lashes as she blinked. She was too shocked to respond immediately, so Pansy merely moved her lips against the other girl’s gently – catching the soft, plump swell of Granger’s lower lip between her own and suckling it tenderly.

It was a moment before Granger relaxed somewhat, and her eyes fluttered shut.

Incredible, really – Pansy had expected much more of a fight than this. Gingerly, Pansy stepped forwards so that her breasts brushed against Granger’s, and she touched her hip lightly with the tips of her fingers. She reacted immediately, her back arched – pressing her closer, and Granger shifted so minutely that the light touch of her fingers on Pansy’s forearms was barely there – but a reassurance nonetheless.

Emboldened by Granger’s responsiveness, Pansy moved to deepen the kiss – coaxing the girl’s mouth open and flicking her tongue into the warm, cinnamon-tinged space.

Granger sucked in a breath, and for a moment, Pansy was sure she would tear away – but instead, Pansy was greeted with the timid brush of a tongue against her own.

Pansy smiled, satisfied, and drew her small hands against Granger’s waist to urge her closer so that their knees brushed, and Pansy could feel the warm press of her breasts more fully.

She was soft, making a nice contrast to Pansy’s own taut muscles and lean physique. Granger’s stomach was a supple swell, and her waist was curvy enough so that when Pansy began to caress her sides, there was a gentle curvature from hip to ribs that yielded to her touch and produced the most delicious shiver in the girl beneath her hands.

Thrilled by the sudden knowledge that Granger was actually enjoying herself, Pansy pressed her into the wall – drawing her knee up between the girl’s legs and stroking her inner thigh as they kissed.

The response was immediate; Granger moaned into Pansy’s mouth and slumped against the alcove.

“Shhh,” Pansy chastised, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth.

“Pansy,” Granger gasped, as Pansy rolled her hips against hers.

“Mmm?”

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered heatedly, as Pansy moved to her neck to nibble on the soft spot beneath her ear.

She halted her ministrations and drew back to regard the girl.

There was a distinct flush to her cheeks, her robes had begun to slide from her shoulders, and if possible, her hair was in more disarray than usual. Funny, really – Pansy hadn’t been aware that she’d caused the girl to become so mussed.

“Was that your first kiss, Granger?” Pansy asked with measured interest. As if she hadn’t already known the answer to that mystery…

Her query sent the Gryffindor into something of a state.

“No! No – oh, well – not really, but –”

“Trust me,” Pansy pursed her lips and caught Granger’s chin between her thumb and forefinger so that the other girl could not look away. “It’ll be better in the long run if it was.”

“I don’t understand,” Granger whispered, worry creasing her plain features.

“You were their conquest. A task.”

As if in response to Pansy’s half-truth, Granger’s expression darkened.

“Each seventh year selects a target – an innocent to despoil during Stealth Week,” Pansy continued. “Being the immaculate, studious Gryffindor that you are, you were a choice pick for most of my housemates. Naturally, they all expected easy pickings.” She paused. “You could say that this makes things quite a bit more difficult on their part.”

“What do you have to do with any of this?”

Pansy sighed exasperatedly. “Like I said, I don’t think that it’s particularly fair to be objectified by a pack of slobbering buffoons and made sport of for one’s virginity.”

Her eyes widened. “So what is this to you?” Granger pressed warily.

Pansy’s lips quirked into a small smile, “A victory.”

The sound of clipped tones and pounding footfalls echoed down the corridor, cutting off Granger’s look of astonishment and morphing it into something that resembled staunched humiliation.

“Is that all?” Granger hissed. Beneath Pansy’s hands, her muscles tightened as she tensed.

“Not unless you want it to be,” Pansy murmured so lowly that it came out as a bare tuft of warm air against the other girl’s mouth.

There was a pause where Hermione’s breath caught, and she pulled her head into her neck as if to draw away. All too soon, they were upon them – the beams of two lumos charms sweeping the small alcove and catching the girls in their embrace.

“Yes, Pansy, is that all? Bloody bint – we could hear you all the way down the corridor.”

“Shove off, Draco,” Pansy snapped, still regarding Granger bemusedly while trailing her fingers lightly against her arm.

“You’ve annihilated the ‘stealth’ bit entirely,” Draco leered, looking between the pair of them but permitting his eyes to linger on Granger for just a moment too long. It took at least three seconds before realization hit home, and the blond’s eyes widened in shock.

“If you’re quite finished,” Blaise interjected huffily, shoving Draco out of the way and slinking into the cramped alcove to hover over the pair of girls. “I have something to discuss with Miss Granger.” Blaise assumed his most debonair and sultry grin – if Pansy could award him anything, it was either his likeness in mental dexterity to a troll, or in the least, his unrelenting persistence.

“As it were,” Pansy spat, jabbing the boy in the ribs with her elbow to afford enough space should she need to shove past them, “Granger and I have only just started. Haven’t we, Hermione?”

There was a moment’s pause when the Gryffindor flicked her eyes between the three of them, blushing furiously under their combined stare.

She appeared to consider for just a moment before she responded.

“I think,” she said, her voice quavering so minutely that only Pansy heard it due to her close proximity, “that Pansy and I have several other things to discuss tonight.”

Granger threw her a brief but meaningful glance, and Pansy smirked, pulling the flushed Gryffindor off the wall and past the two boys.

“Well, that settles it then,” Pansy sneered, sliding her arm around her companion’s waist and guiding her in the direction of the Slytherin common room. “We’ll be off then, boys – we’re going to have a rather heated ‘conversation’ – in private – behind closed bed hangings. Good evening to you.” She smirked, and then the pair of girls had disappeared into the murk of the dungeons and out of sight.

Blaise turned to Draco with a frown.

“Don’t say it,” Draco snapped.

“But really –”

“Blaise,” he said bracingly. “I’ve put up with this shite for three years running. I don’t need to hear it again.”

“Oh come on, Malfoy,” he snapped. “There must be some legitimate explanation –”

“I – don’t – want – to – know.”

“Seriously,” the Italian sighed, exasperated, and threw his arms into the air. “Where does that put her, three hundred points ahead?”

“Three hundred and forty-six,” Draco ground out, cramming his fists into his pockets.

“They should have dropped the point-ranking after Montague left,” Blaise continued to ramble. “It’s done nothing but –”

“Shut up, Zabini.”

“But Malfoy!” Blaise whined. “Why does she always have to win?”

-fin-